


taste for the cherry (I just need to take a bite)

by LWTIS



Series: SP K2 Week [7]
Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Burlesque Club, Blow Jobs, Drag Queens, Dressing Room Sex, M/M, There's A Tag For That, kyley-b - Freeform, sp k2 week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 18:52:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15646830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LWTIS/pseuds/LWTIS
Summary: “I’m just the warm-up.” he admits with a grin, motioning back towards the stage. “The big acts are all yet to come.”Thin brows cock high as the other man considers this, lips pursed. His gaze flutters over Kenny’s form before he shifts closer still, words practically a purr.“You’re the only act I’m interested in, sugar.”Written for the SP K2 Week. //Day 7 - Presents.//





	taste for the cherry (I just need to take a bite)

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Towny, if you're here - don't read this at work or if you're about to sleep. love you <3

It’s between the bridge and the chorus that he notices the stare. 

It’s a Thursday evening, and the club is _buzzing_. There’s already a crowd around the bar, queue snaking all the way to the bathrooms. The excitement in the air is electric, almost palpable enough to taste.  
Sometimes, he wishes he could have shown but a flash of this to his thirteen year-old self. A building filled with individuals just like him, effortlessly embracing and celebrating their identity. Room after room of neon lights and pounding music. Stages, always busy - either with stunning burlesque choreography, or powerful presence of Queens, mikes in hand and hair close to God. A glimpse of his twenty three year-old self, clad in a shimmering purple gown and sparkling heels to match. Standing on a stage with a crowd at his feet, their eyes wide and demands loud for more. 

The floorboards tremble under him as the song gets louder. He cards his fingers through his hair, tossing long blonde locks over his shoulder. Slowly, in time with the beat, he struts down to the edge of the stage.  
Kenny is used to having all eyes on him by now. It’s the goal of the performance, after all - it’s what lets him know he’s doing a good job. It’s both familiar and still exhilarating, to be able to command the attention of so many.  

That being said, nothing prepares him for the sight when his gaze flits across the crowd and their eyes meet.

Ripped shirt. Arms - with _lovely_ biceps - crossed across his chest. Thick golden chain dangling from his neck. Wild red hair, swept back and up, in textbook bad-boy style.    
He cannot make out the colour of his eyes with the spotlight beaming at him. The message, though, is crystal clear.  
The stranger is doing his best to devour him with his gaze.    

The bass thumps in the lead-up to the drop. Kenny’s hips sway in response, lashes fluttering with appropriate intensity. His fingers brush over his jaw, up his cheek, to the back of his neck. Throughout it all, the stranger doesn’t look away once. His lips curl around the words of seduction as Kenny mouths along to the singer, the sentiment burning a little too true in the moment.    
_A little less conversation, and a little more touch my body.  
_

He ends the song on his back, skirt riding up his thigh and arms spread over the stage. His ears are ringing, his lungs are on fire, his head is spinning from the sudden surrender to gravity. Around the stage, the crowd _roars_.  
No matter how many times he does it, they always go wild.  
Slowly, slowly, he moves to sit up, hand subtly checking the stability of his wig. There's a little circle of familiar faces at the back, furiously wolf-whistling. At the front is a young boy, eyes wide and face flushed with exhilaration.  
Well. He'd either nudged someone on the path of a future performer, or became part of someone's story of sexual self-discovery. He is more than okay with either outcome.  
And as for him...  
A quick glance confirms that the handsome stranger is still staring at him, the grip on his drink tight.  
If he arches his back a little more than necessary as he gets to his feet to thank the audience for coming out - well, no one can blame him for that. 

\---

He doesn’t have to wait long.  
He’d just settled into his usual seat by the bar, fingers tapping up a reply on his Twitter when there’s movement at his side. Long fingers, adorned with rings, slide into view as a familiar figure leans against the counter.    

“Hey, beautiful.”  

 _Green_ , Kenny notes somewhat absentmindedly. His eyes are green, framed by long, red eyelashes. There’s a thin scar severing his left brow, just to the side of the small silver piercings. When he tilts his head, the light catches on the matching stud in his nose.  
Kenny has to resist the urge to cross his legs.

“Hello, handsome.” he chirps, tilting his head in a way he knows is adorable. “Enjoy the show~?”

Green eyes darken before Hot Mystery Man grins, teeth flashing in the neon light of the bar. He leans in, casually dipping into Kenny’s personal space. “You know I did.”

His voice is higher in pitch than he anticipated, accent thick and heavy. Kenny’s tongue itches with the sudden desire to let the hick creep back into his own words, if only for the reaction. (Amongst other things.)       

“I’m just the warm-up.” he admits with a grin, motioning back towards the stage. “The big acts are all yet to come.”

Thin brows cock high as the other man considers this, lips pursed. His gaze flutters over Kenny’s form before he shifts closer still, words practically a purr.

“You’re the only act I’m interested in, sugar.”

_Hoooooo boy._

Internally, Kenny _swoons_ , right off his seat and to the ground, hands clutching his face in a manner atypical to dramatic made-for-TV teenagers. Externally, he just flushes prettily, shifting in his seat to daintily cross his ankles. He is glad the dress he changed into is both loose and long.       
Hot Jersey Boy’s grin grows.  

“Can I buy you a drink?”

_You can do a lot more than that for me, hot stuff._

“Sure. I’d love a lemon drop.” The practised line slips out easily as he rests an elbow on the counter, head cradled in his palm.  

Red’s smirk is obnoxiously visible as she mixes their drinks, long crimson nails pointedly tapping against the tip jar after they’ve both been served. The blonde has every intention of at least sticking his tongue out at her in an equally obnoxious manner - but then Hot Jersey Boy’s fingers are brushing against his, and he’s close enough that Kenny can smell the sharp scent of his aftershave.  
The boy smells like fucking Axe body spray and Kenny still wants to lick him. He is a disgrace to self-respecting people everywhere.   

“So the programme says your name is Ken Doll. Is what I should call you?”

Kenny takes a hasty sip of his drink before replying, grateful for the burn against his throat. “‘Princess’ is also acceptable. And yourself?”  
Hot Jersey Boy narrows his eyes. A moment later, there are fingers under his chin, a thumb swiping against the corner of his lip. His skin is blotted with the colour of Kenny’s lipstick when he pulls his hand back moments later.

“You smeared it.” he offers in way of explanation. Casually. Kenny almost misses his next words, too busy trying to remember how to _breathe_.       

“Name’s Kyley-B. Pleasure to meet’cha, sweetheart.” 

\---

The door of his changing room slams closed with an ear-splitting crash, right before Kenny is pressed up against it, mouth immediately claimed by fierce lips.      
Kyley tastes like fire and flavoured vodka, something tart and revoltingly sweet. When he pulls back just long enough to suck in a breath of air, his lips are smeared with glittery crimson. (Despite his own lungs straining with the lack of oxygen, Kenny feels unreasonably offended the redhead would think it acceptable to stop kissing him.)  
He really hasn’t had enough drinks to justify the speed at which his pulse races. The lightheadedness. The _impulsiveness_ that prompts him to grab onto the front of Kyley’s shirt with both hands, hauling him close enough to mouth at his neck, leaving a trail of bright red lipstick smears from his ear to the front of his throat.  
(The marketing about that lipstick being kiss-proof was a bold-faced lie and he has never been happier.)    
Fingers clutch at his shoulders. His teeth scrape against the other’s jugular and Kyley _growls_.

He doesn’t usually make a habit of bringing people back to his after shows - and especially not his dressing room, thin-walled and tiny. But this Jersey Boy - with his aggressive confidence and fiery eyes - looks at him with such open interest, such raw curiosity. With unapologetic _want_.      
It worms its way under Kenny’s skin, red-hot and electric, and he doesn’t particularly feel like fighting it.

Suddenly, there are strong hands at his waist, and Kenny finds himself hoisted up on top of his dresser table, the redhead sliding between his thighs. Idly, he thanks his past self for putting all his makeup away before his performance. He can feel the heat of Kyley’s body through the layers of fabric between them. Hands are on his knees, hitching the dress higher and nudging his legs further apart. There are nails grazing his hip, a filthy praise against his ear and oh God, Wendy is going to kill him.  
Biting back an embarrassingly breathless moan, he opens his mouth to tell the handsy boy where his hidden stack of condoms is -  
And then Kyley drops to his knees.  
Stunned, Kenny can only blink and stare as the redhead practically nuzzles into his thigh, the muscles in his abdomen twitching in response.  

“You’ve got another song right before closing, don’t you?” Kyley murmurs against his skin, smirk palpable in his voice. There are fingers sliding over silky fabric, hooking into the waistband of his underwear. “Don’t you worry. I'll make sure you're on time.”

And then there's a long lick up his thigh, fingers tugging his panties to the side and Kenny’s vision goes white.  
Let it be said he's not a screamer, usually. But the sound that wretches itself from his throat before he slams both hands over his mouth is _loud_.  
Fuck, fuck, f _uuuuuuck._     
He doesn’t realise he’s biting his fingers until they’re being tugged away from his face.

“Hey - none of that.” Kyley chides. His lips are swollen and so, so wet. Without batting an eye, he guides Kenny’s hands to his hair, grip firm on his wrists until the blonde hesitantly grasps a handful of red curls. At an experimental tug, Kyley’s expression tightens with bliss. A pointed tongue swipes over his lower lip, words a breathless demand.

“C’mon, Princess, let me hear you.” 

-

He makes it to his second number on time.  
The slow seduction of the song is ruined somewhat by his massive grin throughout the number, but the crowd roars regardless. 

-

Wendy is waiting for him backstage, arms crossed and highly unimpressed.

“ _Seriously_?” she asks, without preamble. A stilettoed foot taps against the floor.

Despite her pointed tone, Kenny’s grin only widens.

“Evening, boss~ Enjoy the show?”

“Don’t get cute with me, Kenny. Tell me why I shouldn’t fire your ass right now.”

“Because I didn't break any of the rules?” he offers, hands spread in surrender. “The only thing I can be accused of is having very little patience and no class.”

A familiar blonde head pops up by Wendy's left shoulder, feather boa fluttering with excitement.  

“So no solicitation at all? Not even a little bit?”

“He bought me a few drinks?” Kenny offers. He anticipates the disappointment in advance.

“ _Weaaaaak_.” Bebe sighs, stretching the syllables as long as she can. Her bracelets jingle cheerfully as she moves her hands to rest on her hips. “Why are you such a _horrible_ golddigger, Ken?”

“Wendy wouldn’t let you train me in the arts when I joined, and now it’s far too late.”

The aforementioned lady sighs, anger long dissipated into weariness. She uncrosses her arms, wagging a perfectly manicured finger in Kenny’s direction.  

“Well, just try not to make a habit out of it. We _do_ have a reputation to uphold.”

An odd thing to advise, about a guy who was probably only passing through the city, and hadn’t lingered to say goodbye.  
He had kissed him afterwards, when Kenny eventually scraped his remaining brain cells into coherence. Once in the dressing room and once more backstage, right before sending the blonde off with whispered encouragements and a firm slap on the ass.

He glances over his shoulder then, scanning the crowd. Just for a moment, for a flash of styled red hair, now ruined by desperately tugging hands. For a flash of gold, of illegally tight jeans.    
But there was none.

“Don't worry, Wends. I doubt it will be an issue again.”

\---

As he’s heading towards the door, bag swung over his shoulder, Red calls his name from the bar.

“Good job! End of month party is going to be fucking _sweet_.”

Kenny perks up. “We did that good tonight?”

She gives him an odd look, lips twisting with amusement.

“Uh. Yeah. Jersey Boy left a $200 tip before he left." 

\---

Kyley-B doesn’t even grant him enough time to properly generate any angst.  
Twelve hours later, it’s Glitter Night, and the floors of the club are a glorious mess of spilled drinks and sequins. Kenny has one arm in the air, spine arched, body eased halfway into the splits when a flash of red catches his eye in the crowd. It’s only his sense of balance, trained by years of recklessly climbing on roofs and hospitality work, that keeps him from falling over.  
_He has returned.  
_ Kyley’s gaze is just as intense as the night before, eyes following Kenny’s every movement. The grip he has on his drink is just as tight too. 

He is already waiting at the bar by the time the blonde gets changed. In front of Kenny’s seat, there’s a freshly ordered lemon drop on the counter.

Slowly, he slides into his seat. His stomach is a strange knot of deja vu. “Hello, stranger.”

Kyley-B’s smile is a lot more strained that he recalls from just a day ago. His biceps and broad shoulders are hidden from view under a well-worn letterman jacket. “Hey, darlin’.”

Alright.  
So this is awkward.  
Having grown up in Bumfuck Nowhere,  Redneck Central Colorado, Kenny is no stranger to the social phenomenon of ‘I sucked your dick behind the bleachers and now you mysteriously ignore me in a normal setting’.  
It's just unsettling being in the _opposite_ role this time. Sort of.

“So!” he starts, voice coming out just a little too loudly. A little of the cocktail sloshes over the rim of his glass as he gives it a furious stirr. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say it’s not the allure of getting glitter all up in your hair that got you coming back so soon.”   

Kyley shifts in his seat. Bites his lip. Takes a deep breath.

“I didn’t want you getting the wrong idea about the tip.”

That is...not any of the sentences he’d been anticipating. Half of them involved a girlfriend, kids. Two girlfriends. A clingy harem of boys. A sudden discovery of good taste.

The redhead takes his silence as a cue to continue. “I was going to leave one even if - if we didn’t end up…”

“Getting cozy in the Biblical sense?” Kenny offers. He’s unreasonably pleased with the ugly snort that escapes the redhead, the tight line of his shoulders relaxing just a fraction.

“Right. You killed it on the stage. And it’s a good club. Really cool. Like...aggressively inclusive.” Green eyes glance around the club, on its staff, on the loud graffiti sprawled across the dance floor, spelling out the house rules. “It’s something that should be mainstream as far as a gay club goes.”

A sentiment he could enthusiastically echo. If only his tongue would decide to untie itself long enough to cooperate. In the end, his hand moves to settle on the redhead’s arm.

“...if that's the case, no need to worry. We appreciate it.”

Kyley-B’s relief is painfully obvious. The sight wraps itself around Kenny’s heart in a tight, warm clutch. His fingers twist in the fabric of the jacket in a vain attempt to ground himself.

“You came back just to make sure I didn’t take that the wrong way?” he teases. That earns him a raised eyebrow before fingers are in front of his face, tracing the curve of his jaw, his voice dipping into a familiar murmur.

“Maybe I just wanted to see you again, sugar.” 

-

He manages to close the door just a little more quietly this time before Kyley-B is crowding into his space, eager to steal his breath away. The kisses are just as scorching as the night before, heat surging along his spine and all the way down to his knees, robbing him of coherent thought.  
He’s ready this time, though.  
He waits until Kyley is pressed close enough, distracted - before wrapping his arms snug around his waist and lifting the other off the ground with ease.

 “You surprised me last night.” he purrs, tightening his grip. The hitch in the redhead’s breath is music to his ears. “Let me return the favour.”

- 

_“KENNETH!!!”_

_“Wendy, I swear I am not doing this on purpose!!”_

\---

On the third night, when Kenny returns to his dressing room after his second song, there’s a number written on his mirror.  
The fucker used the same red lipstick that the blonde wore the night they met, leaving the now-empty tube rolling around on the desk.     
An ugly snort escapes him, hands snatching up his phone already.

  **//Princess//: that lipstick cost me a whole $2 u ass** **(ง'̀-'́)ง**

The reply is almost immediate.

**//Kyley-B//: I’ll pay you back w/ interest, sweetcheeks x**

\---

“H-hey, so - _mmm_ \- “

Nails graze along the other’s scalp, a hard bite to his lower lip doing little to muffle his groan. Below, Kyley is too busy suckling a hickey against his collarbone to take note.

Swallowing, he tries again. “So - my boss might have hinted that if I keep being loud in my changing room, she’ll have to fire me.”

There’s a pause as the redhead lifts his head. His eyes flash with the challenge.

“C’mon then. I live close enough.” 

-

Kenny meets Kyley’s roommate that morning. His name is Stan and he really doesn’t appreciate his designated chair in the kitchen being used for frivolous activities.

Which, he supposes, is fair enough.

\--- 

“Bit stingy for a sugar daddy, is he not?” Bebe asks conversationally one night, fingers swiftly untangling the strap of Kenny’s dress. To her left, Red snorts.

“Bit young to be a proper daddy.”

“It's been weeks and all you got is drinks and a replacement lipstick?”

“Excuse me! I get fed.”

“At the kebab truck at 2am.”

“So critical, ladies.” Kenny shakes his head. “Besides, you're both forgetting a very important factor.”

“Oh?”

Wordlessly, Kenny raises a finger. The girls’ gazes follow.   
The Jersey Boy in question stands just out of earshot, deep in conversation. He is wearing a tank top that's more rips and fringe than actual fabric - and skinny jeans that could convince any heathen to find religion.  
As if to demonstrate, he shifts his weight, denim hugging that magnificent ass _just right._  
There’s a collective intake of breath all around.

“God is real.” Bebe whispers with reverence.

“And has blessed us.” Red nods. She reaches to pour herself a shot of vodka.

Kenny’s smile is a mile wide and a million watts bright as he raises his drink in the air. ”Amen." 

\--- 

“Do you sew your dresses?”

Kenny hums, tugging the thread taut with his teeth until the button is secure once again. “I used to. My sister was sweet enough to make me a bunch of new ones when she started college.” Unbidden, his expression softens at the memory. “She's studying fashion design and she's just insanely talented. I’m so-so with modding cute stuff I find. She just has these ideas and can _make_ them from scratch.”

“That’s cute.” the redhead grins. He glances at the wardrobe behind him, running a finger along the edge of the closest frock. “She’s got a good eye for colours.”

“She’s going through a really big cosmos phase right now. It’s all stars and planets and galaxy prints.” Kenny finds himself saying. He tucks his legs against his chest, chin resting on top of his knees. “I suggested she makes me a Uranus themed gown. She wasn’t very impressed.”

Kyley’s sniggers makes him feel incredibly smug. At least _someone_ appreciates his genius.

“So your sister knows, then.”

“Oh yeah. She helped kick my ass in gear to audition for the job.” His frame is wrecked by memories much less sweet and all the more terrifying. Someone so tiny should not be so damned scary when it came to Kenny’s future prospects.

“What’s her name?”

“Karen.”

Kyley tilts his head to the side. In the low light, his eyes look unusually tender. “Ken and Karen.”

“We also have a brother called Kevin.”

“...that makes for a very unfortunate acronym.”

“Yeaaaah, I don't think our parents thought it through.”

“...does he know?”

“He does. I was kind of on the fence about telling him, but then I got stuck without a ride at stupid o’clock one morning, in full drag and with a broken heel...so I bit the bullet and called him.”

“Fucking shit. How did _that_ go?”

-

The first two minutes of the ride is spent in silence. Then, at the red lights, Kevin glances at him.

“So, this is the new gig then?”

His voice is curious. Even.

“...yeah. I, uh, had a trial week. They’re gonna keep me on as a regular.”

A grin blooms across the eldest McCormick’s face. He reaches over to give Kenny’s shoulder a squeeze. “Hell yeah! Way to go, squirt.”

Oh.

The next ten minutes are spent playing ten questions, Kevin seemingly curious about all aspects of the job - the coworkers, the bosses, the regularity of the heels.

“You should buy some proper shoes then.” he remarks, giving Kenny’s bare feet a distressed glance. “Every girl I’ve ever driven home always had horror stories about cheap heels.”

“...You’re taking this whole thing remarkably well.”

The look Kevin sends his way is as flat as three day roadkill.

“Ken, I helped make your first tiara when yous was ten. When we went to the mall, standing in front of the bride rental would entertain you for hours. This don’t exactly come as a shock.”

_Oh._

_Well then._

“What I _am_ surprised about is the...modesty?” his brother continues. “I would have thought your ideal lady form would be busty as hell.”

“Oh _yeah_. But as it turns out, you can't just stick massive tits down your dress when you're this much of a twig. You'll just end up looking like a top-heavy blow-up doll on a clearance sale.”

Kevin's laughter, obnoxious and loud, follows them all the way to Kenny’s apartment.

-

“...it went much better than you’d think.”

\---

**//Kyley-B//: Have to run. Sry babes. Wreck those bitches and check w/ the bartender before you leave xx**

Red’s smirk is wide and unabashedly nosey as she retrieves the small box from under the bar.

“I’ll bet you a tenner it’s a cock ring.”

“In a jewellery box?” Kenny snorts, nails scratching at the sticker keeping the box sealed.

“Ooh - a piercing then. Or clamps!”

“Stop raising my expectations.” the blonde laughs, managing to ease the lid off.

And then his breath catches in his throat, eyes wide. He doesn’t budge even when Red leans over the bar to catch a glimpse.

“Oh, noooo.” she groans. “That’s not fair. That’s _cute_.”

On a bed of neatly folded tissue paper lies a small hairpin, with a sweet golden star decoration.  
Underneath it, there’s a note. 

**//To match the Uranus gown ;) //**

-

He texts Karen a selfie that night, dolled up in the colours of her beloved galaxies, hairpin tucked securely into his wig.  
He then spends the entire evening dodging her questions, glad there’s a screen between them to hide his stupid grin. 

\---

“Sir, we have an emergency.”

Kenny’s expression is serious, his mouth set into a hard line. His stiff posture alone enough to make the redhead frown.

“What?!”

Kenny shakes his head. Heels clicking loudly against the ground, he closes the distance between them, hand moving to grasp Kyley’s shoulder.  

“Sir.” he begins. “I’m afraid that I'm going to have to ask you to surrender….” His fingers dip down the other’s back, coming to a halt just below his belt. He squeezes with both hands dramatically. “...These weapons of ass destruction.”

“Are you _fucking serious_.”

\---

Something was wrong with Kyley-B.  
(The fact he still only had a nickname to call the other by, after all this time, was something he could also classify as ‘something wrong’. But one crisis at a time.)

He’d been plagued by a mood for a good week, swinging between forlorn and outright irritated. On the rare occasion of winding up entangled in bed, he clung onto Kenny like he was scared the blonde would disappear between kisses. All his enquiries, gentle or direct, led to the same tired smile and the same apprehensive sentiment.

“Just havin’ a shit week, sugar. Nothin’ to worry about.”

And Kenny understands, so he lets it go. Despite his better judgement, the nagging whisper of his instincts, he lets it go. Again and again.  
But when Kyley almost starts a bar fight over someone sneezing too close to him, he needs to do _something_. Deftly, he catches the redhead’s bicep, pressing close enough to be able to murmur in his ear.

“Alright, tiger, get your coat. Let’s go for a walk.”

Twenty minutes later, Kyley’s cheeks have lost their murderous hue, and his snarling had settled into steady breathing. The only victim to his dwindling anger had been a frightened flock of pigeons, and Kenny counts that as a victory.  
They stop to catch their breath in front of the corner store. Kenny’s thumb traces the inside of his pocket four times before his gaze returns to the elephant in the street.

“So. You wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

Kyley-B’s peaceful expression disappears within a flash. Green eyes narrow with irritation, his mouth twisting sourly.

“Like I _told you_ , it’s nothing you need to worry about.” he says, hackles raised once more.

He could drop it. It’d be really easy to drop it. A smile, a hand on his cheek, a sweet apology would grant him forgiveness if he acted quickly. Maybe that’s what Kyley needs - a little indulgence. Maybe they could linger long enough to get him to smile again. Maybe he could drag them into the alleyway, find out if its abandoned enough for privacy.  
It’d be easy.  
Instead, Kenny finds himself stepping closer.

“Look, I’m a _very_ big fan of bottling shit up and ignoring it.” he says. Inside the worn pocket of his parka, his nails dig into the flesh of his palm. “The greatest fan. But it’s obviously something that’s really stressing you out, and I don’t think denying it is going to help.”

“What the fuck do you know?!” Kyley suddenly shouts, voice cutting through quiet air like a hot butter knife. “You don’t know shit about _anything_!”

The sentiment, despite it ringing true, _stings_.

“Which is why I am _asking_!” he snaps, arms winding tight around his chest. “All I know is that you’re acting like a complete tight-lipped ass!”

“Because it’s none of your fucking business!” comes the snarled reply before Kyley throws his hands up in the air. “Fuck this, I don’t need this shit. Not from you too.”

And with that, he whirls around. His quick, angry steps carry him out of sight in a matter of seconds.  

Kenny reminds himself that he has no right to be angry.  
Or upset. Or disappointed, even.  
It’s not like they were in a relationship. Or had made any actual promises.  
It’s not like Kenny had any claim to a boy whose surname he wasn’t even sure about.  

 He slowly counts to ten. Reaches to zip his jacket up to his mouth. Pats his pockets to ensure he has his keys before heading back towards the club.

If anyone notices the intensity of his performance that night, they’re kind enough not to mention it.  

\--- 

**//Kenny//: I fucked up**

**//Kenny//: I put my foot in my fucking mouth and ruined it**

**//Karen//: Do you want to talk about it?**

**//Kenny//: maybe tomorrow**

**//Karen//: kk. Gimme 5 i’ll grab my drink and log in and help you with that splatoon level you were stuck on.**

**//Kenny//: <3 **

\---

There are flowers on his desk.

It’s a massive bouquet, almost obscene in size and complete with its own little vase. More than two dozen roses press against each other, individually stunning and competing for attention.    
As if his limbs were tugged by strings, Kenny picks it up. Slowly, he buries his nose in the petals, allowing the scent to overpower every one of his senses. He doesn’t even notice how hard he’s been gripping the stalks until blood trickles down his wrists.  
Pinned amongst the lush red petals is a note.    

**//I’m sorry.//**

-

He’s waiting by the door of his changing room, pacing wearing a groove on the floor. Despite the pale face and the stiff posture, he looks determined.  
After the door clicks shut behind them, Kenny doesn’t quite know where to look. Between the two of them, the bouquet sits, in all its silent, crimson glory.

“...thank you.” Kyley says, eventually. His voice is the quietest Kenny has ever heard. “For letting me in.”

Kenny shrugs, the movement a minute twitch of his shoulder. “...Thank you for the flowers.”

“...s’the least I can do after being such a dick.” the redhead sighs, running an agitated hand through his hair. “Ken, I am really sorry. I was an absolute ass.”

He’s sorely tempted to agree with him out loud. But his heart is heavy, weary, and the longer he stares at Kyley’s form, the more his skin itches to close the distance between them.

“Apology accepted.” he says, carefully. He wrings his fingers together, trying not to stumble over his words. “I’m - I didn’t mean to push. You’re right - it’s none of my business.”

“Bullshit.” Kyley scoffs. “Of course it is.”

They fall back into silence. Kyley’s thumb rubs against his rings as he twists them round and round.

“My dad’s...a pretty bigshot lawyer back home, and he’s been nudging me to take over his firm since I was little.” Lips twist into a dry smirk at Kenny’s wide-eyed response. “Yeah, you wouldn’t expect it, would you? And that’s what most people’s reactions are. They take one look at me and think there’s no way in hell I could crack it as a lawyer. No way I could make a good successor to it all.” His shoulders heave with a sigh, expression dark with old, bitter anger. “And I can’t tell you how much that fucking pisses me off.”

Slowly, Kenny nods. If there’s one thing he can relate to, it's being told continuously - for years and years - that you weren't capable of achieving something. That you just weren’t good enough, plain and simple.

Veins bulge under his skin as Kyle's fingers clench into fists. “I want to prove them wrong so fucking badly. But...I don’t know what I would do with being a lawyer. It’s...it’s a fucking lot. A big commitment. It would take years, and a lot of sacrifices.” He shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable at the prospect. “My Mom’s not helping at all. She’s...loving but also fucking loud and pushy, and rarely admits that her opinion might be wrong.” Fingers reach to pluck at the frayed material over his knees. “The way she sees it, there's no alternative, and it's stupid and irresponsible to think otherwise.”

Slowly, Kenny’s body slides forwards. He shuffles close enough for their knees to press together. He tries and fails not to savour the look he receives in response, alongside the harried sigh.

“It’s a mess, and I didn’t know what to fucking do with it. And then I came here and looked at you every day, and I felt like even more of a prick.”

That prompts a startled frown from the blonde, the moment clearly ruined. “...I...made you feel like a prick?”

“I mean - here I am, agonising over a career choice that promises me a secure, cushy future, feelin’ sorry for myself, and you just…” Kyley breaks off with a frustrated huff. His head tilts to the side just enough to hide his eyes. “You never fucking complain, Ken. You’re there when someone falls down the stairs, has a hangover, or is puking their guts out. You practically worked non-stop for a week after the food poisoning incident, and you only slowed down when you fucking _passed out_.”

Kenny’s chuckle at the memory is soft and amused. Kyley’s gaze is anything but.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m still fucking pissed at you having such little regard for your own fucking health but it’s just - it’s fucking _incredible_ , okay?” he says. “You work so hard, and on top of it all, you’ve got the repair shop, and the community centre, and you still find time to go to all of your sister’s shows and school meetings. All without a single word of complaint.”

His eyes are bright - so bright - with a kind of heart-wrenching tenderness. Kenny wants to desperately interrupt him, but Kyley doesn’t give him the slightest chance.

“And it doesn’t help that I keep wishing I could do it over with you and start differently.” he admits, lips twisting wryly. “...In hindsight, I have a thousand ideas that are so much more...romantic.”

Well.  
As stubborn as he is, Kenny knows when to admit complete and utter defeat.

The rings are surprisingly warm against his skin as he reaches to slide his hand on top of Kyley’s, fingers easing into the dips between.

“I don't know.” he murmurs. “Taking the fact I still had to work in consideration before dropping to your knees and literally blowing my mind? As gestures go, that’s pretty fucking romantic.”  

There’s a splutter and a wheeze for air. And then there’s laughter, loud and delighted, with a fingers curling around his own, and Kenny doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of all the things Kyley-B stirs inside him.  

“When is your next day off?” the redhead suddenly asks. His spine snaps straight with a determined movement, grip tightening on his hand. “Let me take you out. For - for lunch, or dinner. Whatever you want.” His tongue traces along suddenly-dry lips, words a plea and a sweet demand. “Let me do this right.”

Throat traitorously tight, the blonde can only nod.

“Okay.”

-

Kenny wears dungarees and a pair of well-worn pink Converse shoes on the Wednesday afternoon. Pinned just above his ear, in short blonde locks usually hidden by the wig, is the sparkling star hairpin.  
Kyley’s - Kyle Broflovski’s - smile upon spotting him puts the blazing sun in the sky above them to shame.   

\---

Kevin’s expression at receiving the happy news is surprisingly pensive.

“...what’s got you thinking so hard…?”

“So - with your Colorado Hick, and his Jersey, what kind of accent are your kids going to have?”

“ _Oh my God._ ”

\---

“You busy next Saturday?”

Mouth full with the last bites of his popsicle, Kenny mumbles around the frozen treat in a way that he knows will annoy his boyfriend to no end. A smack to the arm and a hasty swallow later, he replies aloud. “Yeah, I got the next two weekends off.”

“Good.” Kyley waits until Kenny’s mouth is completely unoccupied before continuing, voice carefully innocent. “I want to introduce you to my Mom.”

He seems unfazed by the strangled noise in response, or Kenny’s miraculous ability to choke on the sweet summer air. “She’s been dying to meet this ‘Princess’ that’s been keeping me smiling for months now.”

“...how...exactly are you planning to introduce me?” Kenny rasps once his voice is steady enough. His heart is threatening to burst out of his chest for several reasons. “Your boyfriend that’s your girlfriend until closing time?”

Instead of rising to the bait, the redhead just smiles at him knowingly. “I thought I would let you decide what you’re more comfortable with. She will love you regardless.”

There’s a warm hand at the small of his back. Kenny does _not_ lean back into it. “How do you know that?”

Kyley, the little shit, just smirks.

“We can’t resist sweet, pretty things. It’s a Jersey thing.”

\---

 

AN:

I was going to write a nice deep sci-fi introspective for this prompt, but then there was so much Quality Kyley-B through the whole K2 week and I just had to.   
Main soundtrack would be Garbage's [Bad Boyfriend](https://youtu.be/ivEafjpmF6I) \- a song I've adored since I was 13 and I'm so happy I got to write a fic to it, finally. Title is from [Cool For The Summer](https://youtu.be/il9nqWw9W3Y). Special shoutout to the first Pussycat Dolls album for still going so hard a good 13 years later~ 

Star hairpin idea is from [townycod13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Townycod13/pseuds/Townycod13) and her fantastic little ficlet for the same prompt [(WHICH YOU SHOULD ALL READ)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15474120) because I am so, so in love with the whole concept.

And that's all the prompts done! Only like two weeks late, but hey. It's been a blast, and I just wanna say thank you to all the amazing artists and and writers who spoiled us - and for everyone who read my stuff and dropped kudos and comments. I can't thank you enough <3

Check out all the [main blog for K2 Week on Tumblr ](https://k2-week.tumblr.com/)and also the [tag! ](https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/sp-k2-week)And whilst you're there, [hit me up! ](https://lwtis.tumblr.com/)


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